


I Still Choose You

by cannedpeaches



Series: All Roads Lead Me to This Place [3]
Category: The Last of Us
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 07:25:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6109425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cannedpeaches/pseuds/cannedpeaches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Joel and Tess learned something new about each other, and two times they chose to hide the truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Still Choose You

**Author's Note:**

> Some suggested fanmix listening while you read: ["Poison & Wine"](https://8tracks.com/reegars/poison-wine) and ["this is our chance."](https://8tracks.com/jjoelmiller/this-is-our-chance)

i. help wanted

When the broad-shouldered man sat down next to Tess at the bar, she ignored him. Her morning drop had gone poorly: A bunch of Cillian’s men got to her contact before she did, and by the time she arrived, he was lying in a pool of his own blood and the pills he’d promised her were nowhere to be found. It was just another reminder that she needed to hire someone soon. With Rodriguez dead, she had no one to watch her back.

She shot her finger of whiskey, wincing as it hit the back of her throat and burned all the way down. As she set her glass down, the man next to her pushed another drink toward her with one large hand.

“What’s this?” Tess asked, looking up at him at last. He was older than her, his face lined and his mouth hard. If his expression hadn’t been so serious, she would have pulled a knife on him for trying to pick her up.

“You’re Tess Callahan,” he said, ignoring her question.

Tess lifted an eyebrow at him. “My reputation precedes me.”

“I heard you’re lookin’ to hire somebody.”

“I might be,” she acknowledged. She nodded at the drink. “What’s this supposed to be? A bribe?”

The man’s lips twitched. “Where I come from, when we talk business, we try to do it right.” The twang in his voice made her smile; she was a long way from St. Louis, and a good drawl always reminded her of home.

What used to be home, anyway.

She cleared her throat as she pulled the drink toward her, taking a sip. Rye. He had good taste.

“So, where are you from?”

The man frowned, which made Tess laugh.

“I’m not hirin’ anyone without a resume,” she said, taking another sip of her drink.

The man looked down at his own glass of rye. “Texas,” he said, not looking at her. “Austin. But I’ve been all over.” Tess waited. The man sighed before he continued, “New Orleans. St. Louis for a few years. Then here. Guess you could say I’m new in town.”

“St. Louis?” The hand that held her glass stopped halfway to her mouth. “What the fuck were you doin’ there? I heard they never got that QZ up and runnin’.”

The man grunted. “They didn’t.”

Tess sat back in her stool a little, appraising him. The long sleeves of his shirt were pushed up over his elbows, and she could see the bands of muscle in his forearms, the scars from previous fights, the callouses on his hands where he was used to holding a gun, the ferocity in the deep lines of his face.

“I see,” she said, her voice quiet. “You’ve traveled a long way.”

“Decided I needed a new career,” the man said. He looked up at her now, his eyes cold as agates.

“I am lookin’ to hire,” Tess admitted, putting down her now-empty glass. “Just a gun, nothin’ more than that. I need someone quick and adaptable, who’s not afraid of goin’ outside. And I need someone loyal.” He held her gaze, not blinking, and nodded. “We split profits sixty-forty. Think you can handle that?”

“Sure thing, boss,” the man said.

She smirked and held out her hand. “Then you’ve got yourself a job --”

“Joel,” the man said. “Joel Miller.”

“Pleased to meet you.”

 

_He loves beans, Texan or not. He enjoys shitty beer, but only drinks good liquor. He always rolls his sleeves up if he can get away with it, otherwise he complains endlessly about how they “get in the way.” His shoes are size 11. He likes his 9mm fine, but he’d prefer a revolver.  
_

 

ii. what’s in a name?

Tess handed him the documents as he finished stuffing another box of ammo into his pack.

“What’s this?” he asked, taking them from her.

“New papers,” she said. “Since _someone_ destroyed his last set.”

Joel snorted. “That’s because someone _else_ decided it’d be a good idea to go meet Bill outside the wall. Near the mall. In a goddamn downpour.”

“Minor details,” Tess said, flapping a hand at him. “That’s coming out of your pay, by the way.”

Joel rolled his eyes and then flipped through the documents. They would cost him quite a bit; Tess didn’t fuck around when it came to quality. But then he stopped and clapped a hand over his mouth, trying to keep the laughter in his chest from bubbling over. He couldn’t believe his eyes.

“What?” She stared at him. Her eyes widened as she realized what was happening. “What are you laughing at? What’s so funny?”

“I think -- I think this is yours,” he said, fighting his laughter, which burst out of him in barely suppressed barks. He handed an ID over to her.

Tess took the ID from him, and as soon as she saw it, her face flushed bright red.

“ _Theresa?_ ” he said. He’d almost gotten a hold of himself, but as soon as he said her name, he started laughing again, not hiding it this time. Vaguely, he wondered when he’d last laughed his hard. Certainly not since Tommy had left.

“Fuck off, Miller,” she growled, shoving the ID into her pack.

“ _Theresa_ Callahan,” he said to himself, still chuckling, feeling her name as it rolled around in his mouth.

“What of it?” She nearly ripped her zipper as she closed her pack.

“Too sweet a name for someone like you,” he said, shaking his head as he shouldered his supplies.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s a compliment, boss,” he said, tossing one last roguish grin over his shoulder. Something in her eyes flickered, and he chose to ignore it. For now. “I swear.”

 

_She hates having her hair in her face. She has a taste for good wine, even though she pretends she’s all bourbon and smoke. She needs to have a blanket completely wrapped around her to sleep -- or better yet, his arms. Not a lot of things make her pause, but sometimes a patch of wildflowers will. Occasionally, when she thinks he isn’t looking, she sneaks some painkillers for herself._

 

iii. baby girl

Tess had seen Joel drunk more times than she could count, which she’d consider a bad thing if they weren’t living in the times they were. Alcohol usually loosened him up: He smiled more easily, laughed harder, joked bawdily. Sometimes he would flash her one of those grins that went straight to her belly, as if she’d taken another shot herself, the heat of it pooling inside her. She thought that one day, she might do something about that feeling.

But not today. Today, Joel had had more to drink than usual, and he’d gone right past mirth and straight back on toward quiet. Quieter than usual, if such a thing was even possible. He stared down at the almost-empty bottle of whiskey he held, his eyes unfocused, his grip slack. They hadn’t spoken for the better part of fifteen minutes.

“Joel?” Tess ventured, studying his form, hunched back against the couch from his place on the floor. Their poker game lay forgotten on her coffee table. He didn’t move at the sound of his name. “Hey, big guy. You okay?” She eased the bottle of out of his hand, and as she moved to put it on the floor, something wet and warm fell on her knuckles.

She slammed the liquor bottle on the coffee table hard enough to leave a mark in the wood in her haste to scoot closer to him. She took his face in her hands and tilted it up toward hers. She’d already felt the evidence, but it still shocked her to see the tears that had already spilled onto his cheeks, soaking his beard, tears that still leaked out of his eyes even as she watched.

“Joel,” she murmured, moving even closer to him, so that she was practically in his lap. She propped her chin on his head, and as she did, she felt him come apart, sobbing into her neck as he wrapped an arm around her, holding on for dear life.

She knew enough about his nightmares: Sometimes, he would find himself at her apartment past curfew, having lost track of time while sorting through their inventory, and he would wind up sleeping on her couch. She would find him lying awake some nights when she got up to get a glass of water, would hear him moaning in his sleep on other nights. She never asked about his dreams; she knew well enough that some things needed to stay buried.

But now, she felt his lips forming words against her skin, his voice so broken it was almost painful.

“Sarah,” he said. “Baby girl...”

Tess didn’t pity anyone. She had no time for that. But all the same, she held him close, head cradled against her chest, as he cried.

 

_He hates this birthday more than anything. When he looks at children, the lines in his face deepen. He won’t talk about Austin, not even when he’s drunk. He picks at his scabs, so he always scars. He could wash all the blood out of his shirts, but he chooses to let them stain._

 

iv. skin deep

Joel would have been more nervous that he hadn’t done this in years, but his brain wasn’t working particularly well.

He grazed his teeth over the skin of her neck, nipping where he felt her pulse beating against his lips. She moaned under his mouth, throwing her head back to give him better access. Her fingers scrabbled against his chest, making quick work of the buttons of his shirt. When her cold fingers touched his naked chest, they both gasped.

He drew back to look at her pale, moonlit face, her eyes dark and shining with lust. His breath caught in his throat, and he smothered the sound against her neck.

“Tess,” he murmured, dipping his head lower, pushing her open shirt out of his way as he went. She moaned as his beard scraped against the skin in the valley between her breasts. “Been waitin’ so long...” The words slipped out before he could stop him, and to distract them both, he flicked his tongue over her nipple, grinning as she arched her back.

“Stop teasin’,” she said, breathless.

He chuckled against her belly, and at the sound, she shivered under him. “Oh no, boss. I’m gonna enjoy this. And I’m gonna make sure you do, too.” He grinned at her as he unbuttoned her jeans, and her head fell back against the pillow, eyes squeezed shut in anticipation.

Once he’d eased her jeans and underwear off and settled down between her legs, he felt her heat rolling off her. She jerked when he put his mouth to her, tonguing over her most sensitive places.

“Joel,” she said, and he wasn’t sure if it was praise or a plea or both. No woman had ever said his name quite like that before, and he wanted to make her say it over and over again. Her cry when she came was loud enough to wake the whole QZ.

He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, grinning as he slid up to press his lips to hers, groaning as skin moved over skin. She made a small noise in the back of her throat as he stroked her tongue with his own.

“Inside,” she gasped, pulling away from him. “Now.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, shucking his jeans.

He buried his face in her neck once more as he entered her. Fuck, she was tight. The sensation was almost too painful to be pleasurable. Almost.

When he’d bottomed out in her, he looked up at her face and was startled to find her already looking at him. Her expression was unreadable, some cross between longing and lust and something he still can’t name. He stroked her cheek, threaded his fingers through her hair, pressed his forehead to hers as he began to move in her.

“More,” she begged, wrapping her legs around his waist.

He groaned into her ear, picking up the pace before pulling out and spilling on her thigh.

He rolled over onto his back, panting and seeing stars. When he’d caught his breath, he turned his head to look at her. She was grinning at the ceiling, one arm thrown over her stomach. When she looked at him, he felt lightning shoot through his body. He grabbed her free hand and kissed her knuckles.

“I knew I kept you around for a reason, Texas,” she said, laughing as she rolled into his arms.

_She loves being bitten. She’ll do it any way he wants, except when he holds her from behind, and he doesn’t need ask her why. Sex is the only time she’ll let someone else be the boss. Afterward, she likes to ask him about his scars, running her slim fingers over every one. She tastes like salt and iron, and he doesn’t mind._

 

v. cardboard boxes

“Are you serious?”

“Do I look like I’m jokin’?”

Tess snorted. “It’s true. I’m not sure you could joke if you tried.”

“Cute,” he said, his voice bone dry.

“You love it.”

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

“What’s in it for you?” Her voice was light, but her eyes were dark.

“Not havin’ to put on pants or go outside to see you.”

Tess rolled her eyes. “C’mon, Joel.”

He sighed and looked at his hands. “Just seems like it wouldn’t be a bad idea to consolidate our operations to one main location.”

“What, so there’s only one place people have to go to kill us both?”

He made a frustrated noise. “No, Tess, because always having someone to watch your back is better than leavin’ it open.” He paused, cracking his knuckles before he spoke again. “Listen, Tess, I got the room. And...and I wouldn’t mind havin’ you around.” He looked at her now, the conflict smoldering behind his eyes.

Her expression softened. “You sure about that? Sometimes I leave my socks on the floor.”

He smiled a little at that. “You know I don’t ever mind you.”

“I know.” She drew her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them. “So, are you helpin’ me pack?”

“If you want me to.”

“I do. And I want you to help me figure out how to sell my apartment, too.”

“Don’t you have to re-register that thing on the market with FEDRA?”

“Joel, you want to be a good boy at the weirdest times, you know that?”

Joel moved closer to her, sliding along the couch. His expression was wolfish now. He leaned in and nipped her earlobe, making her shudder. “Good boy?”

She laughed. “This was your plan all along, right? Sexual favors in exchange for me movin’ in with you?”

“Would it have worked?”

She smirked at him, and he took it as an invitation to gather her in his arms. “You might be on to something, Miller.”

 

_They both love dogs. He always puts an arm around her to cover her, even though she’s told him to cut it out, because she can take care of herself (but after years of this, she finds she doesn’t mind as much). When he holds her, he’s so gentle she might as well be made of glass, and she knows this is because he respects her and not the other way around. His laugh is rare, and it’s the best thing she’s ever heard. When he thinks no one is listening -- and when she can’t sleep, which is often -- he hums._

 

-

He wants to love her. God, he does. He does every time she flashes that smirk at him, every time she sinks a blade into a clicker’s neck, every time she rolls her hips against his in bed, every time she laughs with that rough voice of hers. Every time she seems to be on the edge of saying it.

But he can’t let himself. He knows where that road leads.

 

-

She loves him. God, she tries not to. But she does, every time she helps him trim his hair, every time he shoves her out of harm’s way, every time he murmurs her name in his sleep, every time his eyes brighten at the sight of a good bottle of scotch. Every time she’s on the verge of telling him.

She can’t help herself. Even though she knows where this road leads.


End file.
